Remembering Buckleberry Row
by Cybra
Summary: It was the worst disaster in Kids Next Door history, and, as his teammates will learn, Numbuh 1 was there. (EDIT: Format is fixed.)


Remembering Buckleberry Row

By Cybra

**A/N:** Ever have one of those plot bunnies that gnaws on your leg until you _have _to write it? Well, this is it. It switches from third person POV to Numbuh 1's POV back to third person, so ye have been warned.

**Disclaimer:** I own Numbuh 1 and his naughty little friends! Mwahahahaha! Tuh. Yeah right. Tom Warburton holds that honor.

There were days Numbuh 2 swore Numbuh 86 went out of her way to make Numbuh 1 mad. There was some sort of resentment of his leader that the head of decommissioning held, making her belittle the Brit at every turn.

Normally, Numbuh 1 seethed, taking his anger out on the same robots Numbuh 4 practiced with rather than snapping back and risking his job. (And how those robots suffered.)1

But one day it seemed that Eighty-Six went too far.

"I honestly cannot understand why they would put someone like _you _in command of a team! I could do _so _much better with my eyes closed!" the Irish girl snarled at him. "Mark my words: If you ever faced half of the things _I've _seen, you'd _crack _under the pressure!"

**_"Enough!"_**

Numbuhs 2 through 5 and Numbuh 86 stared at Numbuh 1. Even though many had _dreamed_ of doing so to Eighty-Six, to _actually_ scream at a superior officer was practically unthinkable.

Numbuh 1 reached up and quickly slid the neck of his sweater over his left shoulder, revealing a jagged scar. It was as if he had nearly been stabbed but had barely avoided it.

Numbuh 2 and his teammates had seen the scar before but had never asked about it or the others he carried. They all carried scars due to near misses from battles in the Kids Next Door. However, no one could remember when that particular scar had come into being, and Numbuh 1 had never bothered to refresh their memories.

"Wh-what is that?" Numbuh 86 asked, fighting to keep her composure.

"That, _ma'am,_ is Buckleberry Row," he responded coldly.

The head of decommissioning stiffened; her eyes widened. "Bu-Bu-Bu-Buckleberry Row?"

He nodded.

"But you would've been a trainee then!"

"The kids in my training group were the only Kids Next Door operatives in the area when the Code One signal2 went out."

At first, the Irish girl opened her mouth to argue but then seemed to remember something. Then she went white as a ghost.

"I bounced back from Buckleberry Row relatively unharmed. _You,_ however, completely froze when toenails were dropped on your head during that one mission. Suppose you had been leading your team in the middle of a similar situation. Then what?"

Exchanging a glance with his teammates, Numbuh 2 smirked to himself. Numbuh 1 had wanted to use _that _mission as a weapon for a while.

Knowing she was beaten for the moment, Numbuh 86 mumbled, "Dismissed."

Turning sharply on a heel, Numbuh 1 marched out, leaving Numbuh 2 and the others to hurry along behind him.

------

Brooding was one of Numbuh 1's favorite things to do while angry or in some other unfavorable mood. Normally, it allowed him to review the facts and determine what had gone wrong on a mission, to try to puzzle out what had happened between two friends (or himself and a friend), or to filter out whatever small amounts of anger he may have had that were not worthy enough to attack the robots.

But tonight, his brooding took him to a day one year past. His eyes, hidden and protected from what unforgiving light3 the nighttime suburbs4 offered, held a haunted look, and his right hand absently reached up to hold his left shoulder. The scenes of pure madness that had happened not too far away from the very tree house whose tree's branch he had perched on replayed in his head.

His body jerked at a sudden noise. He brought his idly swinging feet up onto the branch and prepared for a quick escape by way of his jet boots. Hopefully, the "disasters in leather"5 would be kind.

As Numbuh 2 in his fly suit appeared in front of him, the leader relaxed, letting his legs hang down again. He shook his head. "Are you _trying _to scare me to death?"

"Would you believe me if I said 'no?'"

Numbuh 1 tapped a finger against his chin. "After I scared you with my sleepwalking and you swore revenge, no."

"Believe it or not, it's the truth." Numbuh 2 landed beside him, making the maneuver seem as easy as landing on the sidewalk far below them. "Nice spot. I may have to come here more often."

"My branch. Find your own."

"Someone's in a good mood," Numbuh 2 stated, raising his left eyebrow.

"Am I ever in a good mood after talking with our beloved Eighty-Six?"

"Yeah, but you're not usually _this_ snippy."

The pair sat in silence for several minutes before Numbuh 1 asked, "How did you find me?"

"Saw you jet up here. I mean, you were being quiet about it, but your jet boots kinda gave you away when you went past the TV room window."

"Ordinarily, I'd climb, but I had too much on my mind tonight. I didn't want to fall by mistake and have to hope my jet boots would save me."

"Oh."

Silence reigned over the two operatives as they gazed out over the surrounding houses. The leader knew his friend expected him to tell him what was wrong, but Numbuh 1 stubbornly refused. To him, what happened in the past must stay in the past. True, it had helped him reach where he was, but he would rather not speak of it.

Clearly frustrated, Numbuh 2 blurted, "The others and I were looking up stuff on Buckleberry Row."

"Were you?"

"Yeah. All we'd ever heard was the basic rumors and stuff." The engineer glared. "Why didn't you ever tell us you were there?"

"You didn't need to know."

"C'mon, Numbuh 1! It's kinda important!"

"Is it?" The Brit whipped his head around to stare at his American friend. "Why do you need to know I was there at the greatest disaster in Kids Next Door history? Why do you need to know I knew good operatives—some who never got past training—who left after that battle because of what they saw? Why do you need to know that Buckleberry Row was the reason that I was finally promoted to command operative?"

Numbuh 1 received grim satisfaction from his friend cringing at every word. He wanted Numbuh 2 cowed and to stop asking questions. He did not want to hear the cries of his comrades on that day anymore. He did not want to feel the blaster in his hand on that day anymore. He did not want to see the creature that threatened the tree house they lost on that day anymore.

"Because…because I'd like to understand what went wrong," Numbuh 2 said finally. "We all would. We want to know…what it was like…to actually be there. The reports make it seem so…unreal."

Numbuh 1 closed his eyes for a moment as the scar on his left shoulder seemed to throb with remembered pain. Remembering that day was the last thing he wanted to do. Yet his teammates wanted to know.

"Fine," the leader growled. "You want to know? You'll know. But you won't like it."

As one, the pair slid off of the branch. They activated their respective flight capabilities and circled around towards the main lounge of the tree house.

------

Numbuh 5 tapped her foot impatiently in the air as she sat with arms and legs crossed on one of the couches.

"You think he's gonna tell us?" Numbuh 4 asked.

"I think Numbuh 2 can bug him into telling us. If he can't, I can," Numbuh 5 answered.

Her fellow female teammate, Numbuh 3, looked up from the Rainbow Monkey doll she was squeezing. "But what if he doesn't want to?"

"Numbuh 3, have you ever had something that you didn't want to tell, but if you kept it inside of you, you'd burst?"

"Uh huh…"

"I think that's what we've got here. Numbuh 1 had to write a report for it, but it seems…incomplete. It's our job as his teammates to get the story out of him. Besides, don't you wanna know what the heck happened that day?"

Numbuh 3 nodded her head, hugging the doll even more tightly than before. "You don't think Numbuh 1'll be mad, do you?"

"Well, maybe a—"

The faint buzz of Numbuh 2's fly suit and the now fainter hum of Numbuh 1's jet boots (the Engineers at the Moon Base had been working on trying to silence the rockets) reached the Quiet One's ears, making her stop herself in mid-sentence. She uncrossed her arms and legs then re-crossed her legs as she leaned forward in anticipation.

Numbuh 2 had been victorious: Their leader had returned and was ready to talk.

Numbuh 4 opened the door just in time for Numbuh 2 to buzz in, landing easily in the middle of the group. The chubby engineer grinned at Numbuh 5, giving her a thumbs-up to confirm her suspicions. He turned to Numbuh 4 and nodded his thanks.

Numbuh 1, who normally would have simply landed and opened the door himself, seemed to glide in the door after Numbuh 2. He swooped up, hovering just inches above the floor for a moment, and landed lightly, subconsciously showing off. The jet boots had always been his delight and his bane, as his continuous practice showed very well.

"You wanted to know about Buckleberry Row," Numbuh 1 said, strolling over to his favorite armchair and allowing his body to flop down into it.

Numbuh 5 nodded her head as the others took their seats on and around the couch: Numbuh 4 chose to sit on the floor next to Numbuh 3 in front of Numbuh 5's feet; Numbuh 2 removed his gear and sat next to Numbuh 5.

Numbuh 1 leaned his head back for a moment and closed his eyes before re-opening them to look at his teammates as he spoke. "As you all know, before Buckleberry Row, the ratio of Instructors to trainees was, at best, ten to one. In my training group, there were twelve trainees, including myself. On that day, we had gone to Sector V-26 for as part of our training…"

One Year Ago (Nigel's POV)…

We were to run a basic training mission: nothing out of the ordinary. Instructor 337 divided us up into two teams of six. One team would be the enemy while the other would act as a team of Kids Next Door operatives. The enemy was given a definite strategy to follow while the Kids Next Door team would have to come up with a strategy to defeat them. The exercise was timed with time added on for breaking rules that had been set down at the beginning of the training mission. If the mission resulted in a failure to defeat the "enemy," it would mean extra training time for the Kids Next Door team. When the exercise was finished, the two teams switched roles with the enemy being given a different strategy so the new Kids Next Door team would not have a pre-planned strategy.

All in all, it was a routine training mission.

"All right," Instructor 33 said as soon as he had divided us up. "Numbuh 275's team, get into—"

An urgent beeping from his communicator cut him off.

He pulled it out and turned it on.

He did not even get a chance to respond before the message started.

"—One! Code One! This is Sector V-2 issuing a Code One! Any Kids Next Door operatives in the area, please respond!" a desperate voice shouted. In the background were the sounds of an angry roar and both frightened and determined shouts.

The trainees around me and I shifted nervously. We had studied Code One signals and knew what it meant.

Instructor 33 sent us a look which quieted our shifting. "Numbuh 28, this is Instructor 33. I have a group of trainees here, but they're only half-trained."

"We're fully trained, and we're getting our butts kicked!" the voice—Numbuh 28—answered. "We need anyone we can get our hands on! You're the only one who's answered! Sector V hasn't answered yet!"

I saw Instructor 33 chew his lower lip. His options were few. He had to either abide by the _Handbook_8 and answer the call with half-trained trainees or break the rules and leave Numbuh 28 and his team to their fate.

Loyalty to a fellow operative won out.

Sighing, Instructor 33 said, "We'll be there in two minutes. What's your position?"

"Buckleberry Row! Hurry!"

Instructor 33 snapped his communicator shut and turned to us. "I'm sorry, but you all are going to have to grow up a little sooner. Stay in your teams since we may have to split up. I will lead Numbuh 63's team." (Numbuh 63 looked relieved.) "Numbuh 275 will continue to lead his team."

Numbuh 275 puffed up his chest. "I will do my best, sir!"

I shifted nervously. I was in 275's team and never felt comfortable around him. He was a good operative, but he always acted that, due to his number, he would be the next Numbuh 274.

"Let's move out!" Instructor 33 ordered, leading the way.

We had a little trouble keeping up with Instructor 33 as he ran since he was older and had longer legs, but we managed somehow. When we reached Buckleberry Row, I wished we hadn't.

It was a scorpion the length of two school buses. A team of six operatives about a year or two older than us was peppering it with their 2X4 technology with little effect except enraging it. Its stinger—a size that made me shudder—whipped out at a speed slower than that of a normal-sized scorpion but fast enough to catch the unwary.

"Split up into your teams!" Instructor 33 ordered. "Try and stay under cover!"

We did so. My team ducked behind a group of cars. I don't know where Instructor 33's team went.

"What do we do?" Numbuh 118 asked, trembling.

I turned to Numbuh 275 who ordered, "Let's try shooting its legs out from under it."

I personally thought it was a bad idea but did not argue. Throwing the thing off-balance might work.

It turned out that it made the thing twice as angry as before. Our assault on its legs turned its wrath directly on us, so we had to fall back to a van parked a few feet away.

"Any other bright ideas?" snarled Numbuh 55.

Numbuh 55 had good reason to be angry. She had nearly been skewered by the stinger. Numbuhs 118 and 73 had nearly been caught by a pincher. Numbuh 88 barely dodged a blow from the pincher when it tried to grab the other two. I nearly enjoyed the fun of shrapnel in the back of my head when the scorpion destroyed the car we had crouched behind.

Numbuh 275 shook with fright. "I-I don't know. I don't know!"

He was losing it. Someone had to step forward and do something.

But who?

And why was my mouth moving without my permission?

"We're too large a target in a big group like this. Break off into pairs," I ordered. "Numbuhs 55 and 118, you two are together. Seventy-Three and Eighty-Eight, you two are together. 275, you and I are together. As Instructor 33 said, try and stay under cover."

"Pairing off isn't going to do us much good, One," Eighty-Eight pointed out. "We still gotta bring it down. And nobody's shots have done anything."

I studied that thing, trying to see why nothing we did was working. As I watched the other groups' shots hit, I realized a pattern: Every shot was hitting the scorpion's armored body. From owning a tarantula, I knew that one spot was most vulnerable.

"We need to stop aiming for its body. Whenever you get a clean shot, aim for the eyes," I continued.

"That'll piss it off," Numbuh 55 commented.

"True, but it'll also bring it down," Numbuh 73 stated. "Numbuh 1, I'm in."

"Good." I took a deep breath. "Okay, let's do this!"

We broke off, each team of two running in a different direction. Instructor 33 screamed at us through the communicators we wore. I could've cared less. We had a plan, and we were sticking to it.

As we continued to aim for the eyes, the other teams seemed to catch on and aimed there as well. None of our shots hit well enough, but each glancing blow gave us some hope for the scorpion's scream of pain told us we were on the right track.

But after one shot from Numbuh 88, the scorpion set its sights on her and Seventy-Three.

**"Get out of there!"** I screamed into my communicator at them.

"They can't!" 275 told me. "Not without getting nailed!"

That thing primed itself for a strike.

"We have to give them cover fire!" I snarled, abandoning my cover.

"You've got to be kidding me!"

"Does it _look_ like I'm kidding?!"

I have heard that there are some moments in life when there is a total absence of fear, when there is nothing but duty. When I ran out and planted myself for that shot, that moment was one such moment for me. I raised my blaster, ignoring Instructor 33's orders to get under cover, and aimed at the scorpion's right eye. I felt strangely calm. There was no fear, no thrill, just calm. I looked down the sight at that thing's ugly eye and pulled the trigger.

I can still see the beam firing into that thing's eye: the perfect shot. I can still hear its anguished roar.

Its tail snapped wildly. I instinctively jumped to my right, twisting my body as the tail came my way. I could not dodge the tip completely, and it struck a grazing blow.

**"Numbuh 1!"** someone screamed.

It burned. Oh, how it _burned!_ I didn't feel my body hit the pavement as the burning raced from my shoulder down to my toes and back.

_'Aren't scorpions supposed to be poisonous?'_ some idle part of my brain wondered.

Eighty-Eight leaned over me as Numbuh 73 gave us cover fire. She pulled out her communicator. "Instructor 33, we gotta get Numbuh 1 to the Medics! Fast!"

"How bad is he?!"

"Bad! It got him in the shoulder! It's not deep, but I think that tail poisoned him!"

All I could do was moan. It burned so bad.

Things were going out of focus. I thought I heard Numbuh 28's voice accepting defeat. Despite my wounding shot, that thing was still going. For some strange reason, Sector V was not coming.

I vaguely remember Instructor 33 hauling me up on his shoulder and carrying me away as everyone ran from Buckleberry Row. We had lost Sector V-2.

Before I blacked out I thought I saw a man engulfed in fire, smiling at us from a distance as we fled. I looked him in the eye just before I passed out.

Present Day

"I woke up two weeks later in the Med Bay of the Moon Base with Commander Seven talking with one of the Medics," Numbuh 1 concluded. "Apparently, I had nearly died due to the poison in the scorpion's tail. Because of my conduct during the crisis, I was given a choice of promotion to command training or quitting the Kids Next Door. It turns out that Commander Seven had had his eye on me for a while after an operative had brought me to his attention, but he needed another Commander to sign off on the promotion."

There was a beat of silence.

"What about the scorpion?" Numbuh 2 asked.

"Never seen again. They think that it slowly bled to death or something because of my shot. Either that or the creator destroyed it since he didn't need it anymore."

Numbuh 1 stood and walked over to the window and looked out over the suburbs. "It turns out that Sector V never showed because they had been distracted elsewhere. Some emergency popped up in their own sector that they couldn't drop without risking the loss of their own sector.

"In light of what happened to my training group, a new rule went into effect. Instructors, for the moment, are choosing two new Instructors when they retire until the ratio is back down to, at most, six-to-one. That way if an emergency like this happens again, trainees don't need to be left in charge of trainees."

"You said you had a tarantula. You hate bugs," Numbuh 5 pointed out.

"I started to hate anything with more than four legs after Buckleberry Row. I had to give up my tarantula afterwards because I couldn't stand looking at it or handling its food since I was reminded of Buckleberry Row and it'd scare the bejeesus out of me. I gave it to Fifty-Five when she left."

The leader could tell Numbuh 4's eyes had widened by the tone of the Aussie's voice as the Tough Guy asked, "Left?"

"You read the reports. A lot of them left. Numbuh 28, Numbuh 55, Numbuh 275, Instructor 33, Numbuh 88, Numbuh 118, Numbuh 68, Numbuh 38, Numbuh 29, Numbuh 20, Numbuh 60, Numbuh 46, Numbuh 26, and Numbuh 22. They all left. A lot of them were only trainees." He sighed. "All replaced now."

Without turning around, Numbuh 1 knew his friends were staring.

"The man you saw. He wasn't in the report," Numbuh 5 prompted.

"A year ago, I thought I was delirious because of the poison and that I had actually imagined him," Numbuh 1 answered. "But when I was turned into an adult and was at the Delightful Children's mansion, I finally saw him again: the Delightful Father.

"I realized then that he drove the Kids Next Door out of Sector V-2 in order to use that as a base from which to take Sector V. If he took Sector V, it would be a major strategic coup since we are a point the Moon Base needs for various operations."

"What kinds of operations?"

"That's classified information. There are some things I'm not allowed to tell you or even allowed to know."

Without even turning around, he knew Numbuh 5 was frowning.

"That's why the Delightful Children and all of those adults are so interested in us: We're important to the Moon Base. The Delightful Father knows that and wants to cripple the Moon Base in order to cripple the Kids Next Door as a whole. The only way to do that is to get rid of us."

"What happened to the Sector V-2 tree house?" Numbuh 2 asked.

Numbuh 1 closed his eyes. "Where do you think the Delightful Children's mansion is?"

"You mean they actually—?!"

"—cut down the tree house and built their mansion on top of the spot where it once stood? Oh yes. It was sort of the final blow to the Kids Next Door. When I realized that it was their father who I had seen on that day, I knew that he had built their home on that spot as a sort of monument of victory. Seeing that mansion now makes me sicker than ever."

Numbuh 1 listened to the silence, wondering what they were thinking.

------

Numbuh 5 stared at her leader, seeing him in a whole new light. The reports from other operatives had hailed Numbuh 1 as a hero of Buckleberry Row. The scar on his shoulder was a badge of honor, and not even Numbuh 86 could say that he had not earned his position. Buckleberry Row had been a terrible defeat. But those few operatives who had chosen to stay with the Kids Next Door were among the best, and Numbuh 5 would never think about working under anyone but Numbuh 1.

Yet after telling his side of the story, Numbuh 1 looked weary, as if he had traveled hundreds of miles and yearned for a rest. A hero he may have been, but the cost had been high. The physical scar he had received at Buckleberry Row was just one scar that would not go away. Emotional scars also lingered as his intense fear of insects showed. Fortunately, he could work around his fear most of the time, but there were days when he was prone to panic.

Little wonder that so many had left and so few remained. Of those decommissioned, how many had chosen the mind-block or full memory-erasure9 in order to live somewhat normal lives without the memory of that horrible day?

And she had made her friend relive that day. During his recitation of events, she had seen this particular look in One's eyes even behind his sunglasses. The look was the same look her uncle had whenever he talked about his time in the Vietnam War.

"There is no glory in war," her mother had told her after one visit, as if that would explain her uncle's behavior.

Hearing Numbuh 1's story of Buckleberry Row suddenly made the disaster more real in the Kids Next Door's ongoing war on adults. And now she realized what her mother had meant. To those who had fought, no medal or promotion could make up for what they had seen. Numbuh 1 had been promoted to command operative, but he would carry the memory of Buckleberry Row his entire life.

_'Unless…'_ Numbuh 5 took a deep breath and quietly asked aloud, "What about when you're decommissioned, Numbuh 1?"

"Hmm?" He turned his head to look at her.

"You going to block the memory out? I'm sure those others must have."

Her leader gave her a measuring look before answering, "No."

"No?" Numbuh 4 asked.

"I'd like to block out Buckleberry Row, yes. But I've also done a lot of things I'm not proud of that I wish I could just block out. As much as I'd like to forget them, these things have made me who I am. If I lose them, I lose me."

The stealth operative bowed her head in understanding. At the same time, she did not envy him for his decision.

"Now I suggest we all get some sleep," she heard Numbuh 1 say. "I'll see you all in the morning."

She and her fellow operatives solemnly stood up and began exiting the room. However, it did not take her long to realize that Numbuh 1 was not following them. She turned back around. "Numbuh 1?"

Sure enough, he was staring out the window again. "I'll be along soon enough, Numbuh 5. Go to bed."

Sighing, she muttered, "G'night, Numbuh 1."

"Good night, Numbuh 5."

Taking one last look at his silent form, she turned and left.

* * *

1 8-Bit Star (AKA James) brought up an excellent point on his site about Numbuh 1's fighting skills. In "Operation LIZZIE" when he was under the control of the Boyfriend Helmet, Numbuh 1, unarmed, was able to defeat his entire team who _were _armed. Since he had no free will, he was actually _handicapped_ in that fight. Therefore, it can be concluded that Numbuh 1 is top-notch at fighting.

2 As can be imagined, a Code One signal is a disaster call to only be used when, for instance, a tree house is threatened with absolute destruction or complete takeover. All operatives in the area are to immediately answer to a Code One to aid their fellow operatives.

3 This is a reference to my light-sensitivity theory for Numbuh 1's sunglasses. (See Endnote #4 of "I'm Their Leader" for full details.)

4 Judging from the area around the tree house, it looks as if they live in the suburbs. If this is incorrect, I would appreciate it if someone _politely_ corrected me.

5 This is the nickname given to the jet boots since they are tricky to handle (twist your body strangely and you may find yourself tumbling) and often temperamental, sometimes cutting out at the worst possible times (see "Operation BRIEF"). Only those operatives that show any real skill at handling them are issued jet boots.

6 The "Lost Sector" which contains Buckleberry Row. The reason it's called "V-2" is because as the Kids Next Door continued to grow, it became obvious that these large sectors could be broken up and given to many teams instead of having one team man one large area. The main sector (the part with the most important strategic value) kept the original sector name—in this instance, "Sector V"—and the newer, smaller sectors that came from the original sector had the sector name plus a number to signify the "piece" it was. The lower the number, the more important the sector it was.

7 In spite of Chad's declaration of being the leader of the Kids Next Door for five years in "Operation END," I will be keeping the system of management I came up with for the organization in this and all other stories since, according to "END," Chad became the leader when he was about eight years old. That, to me, does not make sense. When did he run all of his famous missions? When he was six?

8 Short for the _Kids Next Door Handbook_. This book contains the rules and regulations the Kids Next Door is run by.

9 In "Operation END," Numbuhs 2 through 5 lose their memories due to being wrongfully decomissioned. However due to the fact that Cree was able to remember her time in the Kids Next Door, I believe there may be different levels of decommissioning using that device that took away Numbuhs 2 through 5's memories. While "memory-erasure" is self-explanatory (and the procedure is normally reserved for extreme cases), a mind-block can be used to block out certain incidents or entire years. Unlike a memory-erasure which is permanent except for a complicated procedure to return those memories, a mind-block can be more easily lifted if needed.


End file.
